Hunter
by Athena2693
Summary: Hunter was an especially sad little boy...especially for the son of two goofy superheroes. Implied slash.


Title: Hunter  
Author: Athena2693  
Pairing: Virgil/Richie  
Warnings: Angst, drama  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Not real. If they were real, I'd have kidnapped them by now.  
A/N: This is SO not what I meant to write. How did I end up writing this? It was supposed to be some fluffy piece about Virgil and Richie raising a child, not this depressing piece of crap.

> > > > >

"Hey Pops." A young man of about twenty-five entered the kitchen of his former home, dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, not at all appearing as if he was coming to bring such news to his Father. "Richie's going to deliver Hunter in an hour."

"Already?" The older man turned away from the coffee pot, surprised at the news. "Isn't it awfully early?"

"He says he's ready. Something to do with no interference with controls that regular births have because of smoke and noise and stuff. I don't really understand it." Virgil shrugged. He was awfully calm for somebody about to become a father. "Where's Sharon?"

"She and Adam are at the caterers setting plans. I'll call them for you, and we'll be right over. Don't let Richie carry out the delivery until we get there." Mr. Hawkins was somewhat calm as well, but it was to be expected. There was no surprises here. They didn't have to wait for inefficient muscles or clumsy doctors. They already knew exactly what the child looked like. There was no surprise time for the child to come. Richie had the decision over such things.

"Be happy, Pops, just wait until Sharon gives you a grandchild, there will be a lot more screaming and worrying them."

"That, I'm not looking forward to."

> > > > >

The delivery of the child was more like a science experiment than some great miracle of nature. Of course, it's somewhat difficult to see nature in glass and metal and chemicals. Virgil, Mr. Hawkins, Sharon, and Adam stood to one side, not wanting to interfere, just in case something somehow did go wrong. But Richie had put months, if not years in the long run, into this moment, and everything went smoothly. The only real moment of worry would be the transfer from the vat as the source of life to the switch to self-reliance.

Richie worked quickly, knowing he had less than two minutes to give the infant a half a dozen shots, clean out the child's system, and get it breathing. Virgil walked over to stand next to his lover, watching worriedly, actually biting at his lip. He had confidence in his blond lover, but he wasn't a supreme being. Richie set aside a small dropper covered with mucus and blue chemicals and picked up the child. The shots had yet to kick in. Virgil saw his eyes go to the clock. Richie set the infant back on the fluffy formally-white towel and began rubbing at the child's limbs in an attempt to warm them.

"Just a few more moments, we just need to let the chemicals kick in," the blond told the other man lowly, then added, "Be ready, in case I need some power."

"It'll be alright," Virgil replied confidently.

It wasn't a regular birth. There was no coughing or blood or need to slap the life into the child. The chemicals just reached their destination and the child took its firth breath, and then another. Instinctively, the child began to cry. He was cold and wet and he had just been poked by six needles before he was brought to consciousness. Virgil just let out a deep, low sigh or relief, and closed his eyes, smiling proudly. Richie's grin was so wide it must be hurting his cheeks. Gathering the child in his arms, he carried him over to the rather large sink full of warm water, and cleaned off the sticky liquid. The baby's eyes were squinted angrily as he let Richie know he was unhappy with a loud wail. Mr. Hawkins, Sharon, and Adam finally found the nerve to enter the more immediate area. They walked closer to Richie than Virgil, who still stood back in shock. Richie wrapped the little being tightly in a soft yellow blanket and walked over to Virgil, setting the child in the man's arms. He stood there, still gaping.

"Congratulations, daddy, you're holding the first original child to ever be made without a mother."

Mr. Hawkins set his large, plump hand on his son's shoulder, overwhelmed with pride. Virgil looked up at his father, his eyes shining.

> > > > >

The child was named Hunter, and he was a perfect combination of his two fathers. He had Virgil's dark locks and Richie's light eyes. His skin was a soft brown that seemed to be the perfect shade equal distance between his light father and his dark father. As he grew, it became apparent that he had Richie's genius, but Virgil's eccentric personality. He was a very solemn child and lacked Richie's overall goofiness. His eyesight wasn't perfect, but he would not need glasses to see, unless he really wanted to be able to see letters across the room. As an only child, the first grandchild to an overly-paternal man, and the adorable nephew of a woman with only one sibling, it was inevitable that he would be spoiled rotten. And he was, and then some.

Until he was three, he thought all daddies could fly and wore masks.

He knew how to read perfectly at the age of four.

It was already obvious he could not attend school. He would be bored to death trying to stay at the other children's level, and when it became apparent how intelligent he was, the school would start investigating farther. Eventually, people would start to wonder who the mother was. As two superheroes trying to hide their secret identity, this was something they could definitely do without. They registered him for home schooling.

Richie took over educating his child, and started finding problems right away. The most disappointing fact was that he was not at all interested in science. Maybe he would become interested in chemistry and biology and physics when he was older, but at the age of six, he was much more interested in literature and history. One day, after a history lesson on the French Revolution, Richie walked into his son's room to tell him that some boys were playing Hide-And-Seek out front, and suggest he go join them and have some fun. However, the boy was plunged deep in _A Tale of Two Cities _and had no desire to run around in a bunch of prickly bushes. The odd thing was, Richie didn't even know they owned _A Tale of Two Cities_.

He emerged from his room two hours later, crying, and crawled into Richie's lap to talk to him about the end of the book. Richie put his arms around the young boy, and was just thankful that his boy was still young enough to cry.

Hunter inherited very little of Virgil's power. The little that he did inherit lay dormant until Richie put him through a few physical tests. Discovering the power had been like learning how to wiggle your ears, you can't do it until you learn how to use the muscles. After Richie stimulated the power, Hunter quickly picked it up, and was able to lift small objects and zap people playfully at will. However, he could do little more than such parlor tricks.

Richie remembered his own childhood. He and Virgil used to dress up. Sharon would help them tie towels around their shoulders using rubber bands, and they'd spent hours making "Woosh" noises and arguing over who got to be the villain. Somehow, Hunter just seemed different. He was proud of his parents, but he never was interested in being a superhero himself. He was entirely too serious for a six-year-old. Of course he could laugh and run like any other child, but he often had to be persuaded to get away from his books. He grudgingly accepted Richie's science lessons, and eventually, began asking him questions he didn't know how to answer. Richie began to worry. Virgil found himself living with two bookworms. His son was always locked in his room reading some new book he just got in the mail or at the library, and his husband was always down in his lab trying to find an answer to their over-achieving son's questions.

> > > > >

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, I'll try to answer it." Richie turned away from his microscope and pushed it to the side so he could concentrate on his son. Hunter usually didn't come down to the lab, so when he did, he liked to give him his attention. Even if it wasn't important, it was nice to see him taking an interest in one of his own hobbies.

"Why do you treat Backpack like a living creature?"

"What do you mean?"

Hunter shrugged his tiny soldiers, looking a bit embarrassed.

"I just sort of noticed it. You don't treat Backpack like you treat the washer or the fridge. I've noticed that, when you don't know I'm around. You don't just give it orders, you talk to it like you'd talk to a friend, or maybe a pet. With warmth in your voice."

"I don't know," the blond shrugged. "I never noticed I did." He smiled at the young boy standing by the lab table, and patted the stool next to him, silently asking him to take a seat. "Why are you wondering?"

"I've just been reading some psychology books. You treat Backpack like a child. Is this because you want another child?"

"What? No, Hunter, your father and I decided long ago we'd only have one child, and lucky for us, our one child turned out perfect, huh?"

"Nothing is perfect. I know I'm not. You want me to be interested in science. Pops wants me to play basketball with him." He was such a cute child, but more and more often he seemed to never smile.

"Hunter, maybe you should stop reading those psych books. They're not the kind of things somebody your age should be worrying about," Richie suggested, suddenly, "Actually, I'm afraid with your intelligence, you really shouldn't get so interested in psychology at all. You're apt to get mixed up in theories and make yourself miserable."

"Ignorance is not bliss, Dad." Hunter climbed up onto the stool and leaned his chin in his palms. He stared blankly at the tubes and beakers sitting before him. "What is the use of life, if not the eternal search for truth?"

"Yes, you definitely need to get out of your books for awhile. You're starting to sound like the Children of the Damned."

"I think you mean Village of the Damned."

"Know it all," Richie grinned at the boy and tousled his hair affectionately. "Okay, you know what, let's go somewhere tomorrow. Anywhere you want. On Earth that is, none of that traveling to other planets, you're too young. Where would you like to go."

"Really? Anywhere?"

"Sure, why not. I'm sure your father would be up to a trip. It's been dull here the last couple of weeks."

He saw a genuine smile cover Hunter's young face, exposing a few gaps where he had lost baby teeth. He had yet to grow any adult teeth and the remaining were all little white pearls.

"Could we go to Europe? You said anywhere."

"Where would you want to go to in Europe?"

"Oh, a lot of places. You know I've always wanted to go to Europe."

"We'd only have time to go to one place though, so you have to pick only one. We'll plan a weekend stay or something some other time."

"That's so unfair."

"Life's no fair."

Hunter sighed in exasperation. He was an incredibly spoiled child, after all, and was used to getting his way. But he could see the sense in his father's statement, and knew there was no way to change his mind.

"Can was go to Auschwitz?"

"The concentration camp?"

"Yeah."

"A little morbid, but sure, if that's what you really want. Why do you want to go there anyway?"

"It's interesting. There's so much you can learn, concentrating on other's ideas of perfection."

"Well, I'm not going to claim to even understand your fascination with it, but alright. Now promise me you'll go upstairs and watch cartoons and I'll have a talk with your father."

"Do I have to?"

"Yes. And they better be really childish cartoons too, none of those adult psychological thriller ones you're always watching."

"Unfair!"

> > > > >

"Why don't you go play with Hunter?"

"Er, I'm busy."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

Richie put the top on the pan sitting on the stove and turned to look at his husband. He was sitting at the kitchen table, peeling an apple.

"You look real busy."

"I am," Virgil defended himself abstinently. "I'm going to starve before dinner if I don't eat this apple, and I can't eat this apple until I peel it because the peel gets stuck between my teeth and gives me a toothache."

"Uh huh. Why haven't you been playing with Hunter lately," Richie questioned, concern in his voice. "I think he's starting to feel like he's being distanced from you."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on Virg, I'm starting to feel like we live in some weird Twilight Zone episode. You're not talking to our son, our son isn't talking to anybody but himself, and I'm left talking to Backpack." Richie took at the table across from the darker man. "He's practicing on the piano, he can't hear you if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that, exactly," Virgil brushed the peels into his palm and dropped them in the bowl sitting before him, setting the bowl aside to throw away the contents later. "I just feel silly."

"About what?"

"The thing is, I'm a bit afraid of him, Rich."

"Afraid of him? Virgil, he's six years old!"

"I know, I know," he blushed, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. "I mean, first I was afraid to talk to him because he knows I'm not as smart as him and I was afraid he'd think I was stupid. But now…it's like, it's like he's not really my child. I mean, I love him, God, I love him. But it's like he's this alien creature. He doesn't act like a child. He acts like a depressed forty-year-old. I just keep thinking of all those creepy movies where those parents have those weird kids that end up turning on them and eating their heads."

"Don't be absurd," Richie laughed a bit, and reached over to take Virgil's hands, instantly regretting it when he found his hands covered with sticky juice. He didn't release them though. "He adores you. He doesn't really get you. I think he understands me more because our minds are more alike. But he still adores you. You're his Pop."

"Maybe we should send him somewhere. With others like him that he can talk with. I mean, all we could talk to him about would be crime fighting and science, and he's not interested in either of them."

"Where could he possibly go?"

"I don't know, somewhere. There has to be a place where people meet to discuss the stuff he's interested in."

"There are. But I'm not sending him away. I already discussed this with him before we went to out trip to Europe. He's insecure about our feelings for him. He thinks we're ashamed of how he turned out. Besides, it seems to be he's just interested in studying the human mind and the idea of life. I don't think he's any worse than a child obsessed with religion."

"How he turned out…at the age of six," Virgil shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't think we'd have to worry about this until he was at least a decade older. Do you think it's dangerous, for him to be just hit with all this stuff? At least everyone else gets to take time to enjoy childhood then get into all this psychological load later on, when they're older and have already been somewhat desensitized."

"I don't think so," Richie shrugged, "I mean, yeah, everything was sort of dumped on him, but he has the mind to deal with it. I don't think he could've been created if it wasn't so. He interprets everything so fast…I don't think we could even comprehend how his mind works."

Richie climbed to his feet and leaned down to kiss his husband lightly on the cheek.

"Go ahead and get Hunter, dinner should be done."

"Alright." He left his untouched apple on the table and turned to walk down the comfortably airy hallway to their son's room, before he remembered Richie said he was practicing the piano. He turned at the end of the hallway to go to the library where their large, polished piano stood. Nobody was sitting at it.

A large pile of books sat on one of the tables. Richie would be angry at Hunter for ignoring his practice to study history. Well, he wasn't going to get away with hiding. Just because he could hide behind that pile of books didn't mean he wouldn't be found. His parents knew his better than that.

He walked around the table to stand behind Hunter's chair. At first, he though Hunter had fallen asleep reading, which he did sometimes after staying up all night absorbed in some novel. Until he saw the needle in his hand.

A piece of crisp white computer paper sat next to him, written on with Hunter's tiny, neat hand writing.

_The eternal search for truth can only end in the next world. I can not wait any longer._

"RICHIE!!"


End file.
